


The Best Part

by Curly_Kay



Series: The Binding Universe [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Charles Finds Love, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Happily Ever After, Honeymoon, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:20:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25222300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Curly_Kay/pseuds/Curly_Kay
Summary: A collection of drabbles and short stories following the events of The Binding. Dramione family fluff, Charles the Peacock, honeymoon smut, Narcissa and her favorite child Crookshanks, grandfather Lucius, NottPott/Ronsy/Bluna and more!
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson/Ron Weasley, Theodore Nott/Harry Potter
Series: The Binding Universe [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1827322
Comments: 105
Kudos: 517
Collections: Uncompleted Works





	1. The New Peahen at Malfoy Manor

**Author's Note:**

> Have a request for a future Drabble? Ask me on Tumblr at curlykay!

Sounds of summer filled the Manor grounds; birds sang their tunes, frogs croaked near the water’s edge, a rustle moved through the trees as the wind pushed up against them. Life was good for Charles after he successfully chased out the invading force from his home. These days, Charles spent his days in retirement lounging in the garden or in the grassy fields near the lake. 

The small people with big ears brought him food, the view from his nest was unbeatable, and he had everything he needed to live a good life. 

One day, he was cooling down in the shade of the pavilion when the chatter of conversation caught his attention. Curious, he wandered in the direction of the noise. He watched with interest as his ally with hair like a sparrow’s nest walked down with the tall man who was occasionally not annoying. A large grey container was floating in the air between them as they approached Charles.

“Granger,” the man sighed. “I told you this was a terrible idea when you first brought it up. I can’t believe you actually went out and got one. Charles is  _ very  _ territorial.”

She waved off his concerns. “I haven’t been ‘Granger’ in months.”

“You’ll always be Granger,” he teased.

“Either way, I see how he wanders the yard by himself day in and day out. He deserves a sweet little companion. If they just happen to fall in love, then all the better.”

With a scoff, the man shook his head. “Oh, come on, you and I both know he’s a little arsehole.”

Charles made a mental note to peck the wooden handle of the man’s favourite broom later that week.

“Well, there is a lid to every pot.”

They set down the crate and opened it with a wave of a wand.

The most beautiful creature Charles had ever laid his eyes on—excluding that time Charles found a mirror outside—walked out. The peahen was a mixture of grey, brown, and green the colour of glittering emeralds. He tried not to stare at her full plumage, which teased him as she ruffled her neck feathers in a flirtatious show. This was a bird who knew she was tantalising. 

Charles stopped dead in his tracks, rendered immobile from her beauty.

Covering her mouth with a smile, the witch encouraged the uncertain peahen to move towards Charles but the peahen refused to budge.

He took a step forward and his instincts took over. His feathers extended and vibrated as he performed an intricate dance of seduction, the feathers swaying in the midday breeze. Anticipating her reaction, he continued his movement in her direction.

The new peahen observed him with apprehension, appearing unimpressed. She looked away as if his efforts were an inconvenience to her morning. He then realised that he had to advance his courtship attempt, she was obviously difficult to entice. If anything, it only attracted Charles more—he loved a challenge.

Suddenly, an idea came to him; he pivoted in place and sprinted back to his little home, hoping to turn around this failed introduction before it was too late.

First impressions were important to a peahen of her stature.

“See? I told you. He’s running away from her.”

“Draco, stop. He’s probably just shy!”

“Yeah, that makes perfect sense _ ,  _ the peacock who took on the Dark Lord is  _ shy _ . I suppose we should just be grateful that he didn’t go karate peacock on her, all things considered.”

Charles returned moments later, approaching the lovely peahen with his feathers raised once more. He waddled up to her and placed a single berry on the ground in front of her, nudging it forward with his beak.

He sang out to her, shimmering his tail and shifting back and forth in the dance of his forefathers.

After a moment of anxiety for Charles, she dipped her head down and accepted the offering, greedily chewing it before preening her feathers and moving closer to him.

The witch gasped and slapped the wizard gently on the arm to get his attention. “Look! I told you!”

Charles wiggled his feathers again, knowing the peahen was succumbing to his alluring display.

“All I’m saying is that arranged marriages are a bad idea.”

“There isn’t a peacock dating app! What was I supposed to do? Post an advertisement in the local paper? Victoria was a perfect fit. They fancy each other already!”

The blond man grumbled under his breath before addressing Charles. “Damn peacock. You couldn’t have just let me be right for once?”

“It’s not my fault that Charles loves me.” A smug smile crossed her cheeks.

“He  _ tolerates _ you.”

“Same thing.”

Charles tilted his head in the direction of his nest suggestively and Victoria followed behind him. There was so much that he wanted to show her, the flowers in the garden, the spot he claimed near the fountain with extra shade, the bush that produced fresh raspberries in the summer months.

His only wish was that he would have had the forethought to clean up the spare foliage around his home—he had become too accustomed to the bachelor life. She looked like the type of bird who would not appreciate clutter. He resolved to clean up his home so he could show it off with pride. In the meantime, he would have to get the tiny person with big ears to bring them an afternoon treat. 

The nest was certainly big enough for the two of them, and he hoped she would like it enough to stay.


	2. Pansy at the Burrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drabble request from Penguinfantoo “Ron bringing Pansy home.”
> 
> Massive thank you to LumosLyra for betaing!

Pansy sat poised at the edge of the seat, her legs crossed neatly at her ankles and her hands clasped in her lap. She felt the seconds tick by with each beat of her heart as she waited.

Her eyes drifted around the room; it was filled, but not cluttered, and had a sense of warmth to it. She looked from the mismatching furniture to the vase of pansies on the table to the hideous clock in the center of the room with the picture of each family member in place of the typical clock hands and locations or states of being in place of numbers. 

Tucked just at her feet was a perfectly wrapped bottle of wine that she hand selected from her parents home and snuck off to school with her in her magically extended trunk. She hoped that they liked the brand, as her choices were rather limited these days. 

A hand rested on her knee and gave a comforting squeeze. She looked up to meet the soft blue eyes of the man she loved.

“It’s going to be okay,” he assured her. “Everyone will be home soon and they’ve been excited to meet you ever since I told them about us.”

She internally chided Ron for his optimism, he was always so confident that everything would turn out for them. Pansy knew better. She knew that no matter how hard one hoped or dreamed, that there were always those moments when life was disjointed and nothing ended as it should. 

Nodding numbly, she stared at the clock, watching one by one as the hands shifted into the _Home_ position when the Floo roared to life. She tensed, her back impossibly straight with her shoulders pushed back. Her breath caught as a veritable flood of red haired Weasleys poured through the fireplace. 

There were subtle nuances when it came to a formal introduction to the family of a potential suitor and they had been ingrained in her mind since birth. She knew the song and dance by heart, the only distinction was that this was the first time she hoped that it _worked_. It was even more complicated than a typical introduction given that she already knew more than half the family. Pansy was certain that she was the first Pureblood in a few centuries to meet her potential in-laws during a battle, it had left little time for pleasantries.

Before Pansy had the opportunity to begin the ritual, to provide the wine and curtsy, wishing the family blessings on the household, she was pulled from her seated position and into a hug by the matriarch of the Weasley family. 

Tears stung at her eyes as she returned the hug, letting herself wonder for a moment what it would be like to have grown up with these every day. 

“Pansy, dear. Welcome! I hope we didn’t keep you waiting too long,” Mrs. Weasley’s voice was warm as she greeted Pansy, releasing her from the embrace. “It’s a wonder we get anywhere on time with these kids dragging their feet. We were just doing clean up at the school, but it’s nearly back to normal now. It was mainly the grounds that suffered the most damage.”

She felt Ron’s presence at her side just before he took her hand in his and laced their fingers together. On any other day, Pansy would’ve been horrified and reprimanded him for the display of affection in public, but Mrs. Weasley had not even blinked and continued to talk as if they were not breaking every social custom Pansy had ever been taught.

Mrs. Weasley’s hand rested gently on Pansy’s shoulder. “I have lunch warming in the oven, so I hope you are hungry! Also, don’t eat anything the twins give you, unless you’re comfortable with your beautiful hair turning orange.” 

Pansy remembered herself suddenly. She pulled her hand away from Ron’s, picked up the long forgotten bottle of wine from where it sat on the floor, and dipped into a curtsy. Her head was lowered as she presented the bottle as an offering, “Thank you for allowing me into your home, Mrs. Weasley, it is an honour for me and for the house of Parkinson.” She suppressed the wince at the realisation that she might not even hold that title anymore. “Given your blessing, I would like to–”

Mrs. Weasley’s hand gently tilted Pansy’s chin up to meet her gaze, halting her memorized speech. “Ronald dear, go help set the table.”

“But mum–” Mrs. Weasley held up a hand to silence his protests.

“I need a moment with Pansy before our meal.”

Her pulse quickened, trying to read the expression in the matriarch’s face. Pansy lowered the bottle of carefully wrapped wine and Mrs. Weasley gingerly took it from her, setting it on the table next to them.

“Please, call me Molly,” she insisted. “I much prefer it to Mrs. Weasley.”

“Molly,” Pansy repeated, trying to remember if she had ever addressed a pureblood mother or even someone old enough to be her parent in such an informal manner.

Molly guided Pansy back to the sofa and gestured for her to take a seat before the older woman sat beside her. 

“Before anything else, I want to tell you that I know what you did for Ginny during the Battle of Hogwarts, without you”–Molly paused, her eyes glassy—”who knows what might have happened to her.”

Pansy’s mouth opened to say something— _anything_ , but she found herself speechless. She swallowed, waiting for her to continue.

“Second, I grew up in a family not dissimilar to yours. I’m aware of the customs and the pressure that was placed on you from a young age. I recognise your intentions today and I want you to know that with us, you never have to be anything other than yourself.”

Nodding, Pansy shifted in place, feeling a weight fall off her shoulders. Her voice caught in her throat as she replied, “You’ve raised an amazing son. He’s… unlike anyone I have ever met.”

Molly smiled softly. “Arthur and I decided long ago that we wanted to create a home, _a true home_ , where our children could grow and learn and be without the crushing expectations that we grew up with.” She looked around the room and back to Pansy. “It might not look like much to you, but this is more than money could have ever bought for us.”

“Yes, it’s lovely,” Pansy’s heart clenched, truly believing the words. “Your home is beautiful.”

Molly took Pansy’s hand in hers. “Ron told me what happened, after the battle.”

Pansy’s throat tightened, and she tried to swallow the lump in her throat. “He did?”

“If you were my daughter, I would be _proud of you._ ” Molly emphasized the words with a squeeze. “You stood up for your beliefs and you gave everything for those you love, and I would be in awe that I raised someone who could be so strong.”

Despite her best efforts to keep composure, Pansy’s lip began to tremble at the words. Her mother had never been proud of her. In fact, just the night before, Pansy had returned to Parkinson Gardens and Manor following the Battle of Hogwarts and found her mother clutching an empty bottle of her favourite wine. Her mother had disowned her, calling her a failure and a disappointment, declaring that Pansy would never amount to anything for her choices. Pansy’s father had already been carried off by Aurors following the battle and was awaiting trial. 

Pansy had packed what few belongings she had in her room that were worth keeping and said goodbye to the building that had never felt like home.

“I want you to know that you are welcome here for as long as you would like to stay. If you and Ron would like to find your own flat, I also understand. Arthur and I liked our privacy too, once upon a time.”

Her cheeks flushed with the implication, and she let out a shaky breath. “Thank you, Mr—Molly. For everything.”

“Of course, dear. Ron mentioned that you’re an only child and not used to the level of chaos of our family. It may feel a tad overwhelming, so please take your time and join us when you are ready.” Molly released her hand and stood up, straightening the skirt of her dress and giving Pansy a smile as she retreated into the next room.

As she processed the conversation, Pansy’s heart raced in her chest. In hindsight, it made perfect sense how her sweet, adoring, and loveable Ron had come from Molly Weasley. Ron was everything that Pansy had never been before him; he loved freely, without fear, he didn’t play the games that were so carefully orchestrated by the rest of Pureblood society, and he was true to himself without hesitation. 

It was difficult to remember a time before he came and changed her world, it felt like a hazy memory from another life.

Ron’s head popped around the corner, and he looked nervous as he asked, “You ready to see everyone?”

“I’m ready,” Pansy replied, releasing a deep breath as she rose from the sofa. 

As soon as she stepped over the threshold into the dining room, a bubble of noise hit her and the sound of laughter and chatter filled her ears. There was a long table filled with serving dishes overflowing with a variety of food. It felt similar to Hogwarts, in a way that brought her comfort and made her feel more at home.

Suddenly two sets of arms appeared and she found herself standing with the twins on either side of her, and arm from each looped around her shoulder. 

“So, we hear—”

“—that little ickle Ronnikins—”

“—is in love.” 

It was as if they were a single person, the way the sentence flowed between the twins, one beginning a phrase and the other ending it.

“And you’re to be—”

“—our new sister!”

Her cheeks flushed, she had never spoken so brazenly about it before, though that would be the end goal.

“Sod off,” Ron called, his ears flaming red. “You’ll scare off my girlfriend.”

Pansy scoffed, “They don’t scare me.”

“Want a sweet?” the twin on the right offered with a wiggle of his brows, dangling a yellow wrapped toffee in front of her face.

“No thank you, Fred, I’m rather fond of my black hair.”

He managed to look offended as he declared, “I’m not Fred—I’m George.”

Pansy ducked down, finding release from their arms and turned to face the twins. “No, you’re Fred, you’ve got a freckle just there.” She pointed just below his jawline. “And you’re George, your irises are a third of a shade darker than Fred’s.”

They gaped at her, at a loss for words for the first time that she had ever seen. 

“But… even our mum can’t tell, how—”

With a roll of her eyes, Pansy explained, “I can identify the difference between over a hundred shades of white. You think I can’t tell two twins apart?”

“She’s bloody terrifying,” Fred stage whispered to George, not taking his eyes off Pansy.

Ron’s lopsided grin tugged at his lips as he waved his wand and set the glasses around the table. “She is, that’s why I love her.”

Ginny, who had joined the room mid-conversation, was carrying a large pot which she placed in an empty spot on the table. “Anyone who can scare off the twins is as good as family. I think I rather like you, Pansy... Why are you with Ron again? Blink twice if you need help.”

Pansy’s eyes skated over to Ron who was directing a set of multi-coloured plates to their respective seats with his wand. Her chest bloomed with warmth as his eyes met hers.

“Oh, never mind, I see it. You have it bad. Either way, you’re not allowed to leave now, not when you can put Fred and George in their place.” Ginny grinned looping her arm in Pansy’s and leading her over to take a seat at the table next to her. “You belong with us.”

The words settled in the air as Ron took the open seat next to her, his hand took hers and rested on her lap. “What are you two talking about?”

“Just that Pansy belongs here,” Ginny gave her a knowing look. “You’ve picked a good one. Don’t ruin it with her because if you break up, we are picking her.”

Ron dropped a kiss on her cheek, “I don’t blame you, I’d pick her every time.”

Molly appeared, carrying a rounded glass container with many swirling layers of sponge, fruit, and custard. “Ron mentioned that your favorite pudding is trifle, so I made this just for you.”

Pansy’s mouth watered at the sight. She only ate trifle at Hogwarts, as her mother refused to have sweets in the house in case it increased her waistline. 

“Thank you, honestly, you have all been so kind.” Pansy looked around the table of people who were smiling at her. “You didn’t need to go through the trouble for me.”

She had been raised to fall in line, to stay in the background, to never inconvenience those around her. It was difficult to remember a time when anyone had gone out of their way to do something special for her like that. Her thoughts drifted to her bags that had been shrunk and tucked into her handbag, ready to be unpacked. In under an hour, she had packed up her entire life in frantic haste, unsure if anyone would take her in. It nearly brought her to tears that the Weasleys were not only willing to house her but had taken the time in post-war grief to make her feel special by preparing her favourite dessert.

“Don’t mention it, dear. Whenever someone in the family has a big day we celebrate with their favourite sweet,” Molly placed the dish near Pansy.

 _Someone in the family._ Molly’s words echoed in her mind, and as she settled into her seat, her heart swelled. Though the Weasleys went against every custom Pansy had been raised to follow, they were everything that she had never dared to wish for aloud.

In that moment, Pansy knew there was nowhere else that she would rather be than in her new home, surrounded by family.

This family. _Her_ _family._

Perhaps this time, Ron had known better. Sometimes there were moments when life aligned just right, and all was as it should be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something you'd like to see next? Find me on Tumblr at CurlyKay


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